


The Next Great Adventure

by Buffintruder



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, The Deathly Hallows, au where all the discworld characters live in the hp universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buffintruder/pseuds/Buffintruder
Summary: The granddaughter of Death goes to Hogwarts. The wizarding world won’t know what hit it.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure why I felt the urge to write Susan Sto Helit into a Hogwarts au/crossover with the second generation, but here it is, I guess
> 
> Title from that quote in Harry Potter about death being the next great adventure
> 
> I have some more ideas for stories in this universe, if people are interested, so this might be updated in the future

**November, Second Year**

“You really don’t know  _ any _ wizarding fairy tales?” Albus Potter said, looking between his two friends disbelievingly.

“I know  _ Indian _ wizarding fairytales,” Ekta said. She had been raised mostly in the muggle world, so her knowledge of wizardry came largely from her parents who had immigrated right before she was born. “You don’t even know Indian  _ muggle _ fairy tales, so don’t talk to me about cultural ignorance.”

“It’s not my fault my dad was raised by white people and never got to hear those stories,” Albus muttered. “But anyway, I thought Susan came from a magical family.”

Susan shrugged. “My parents hid all this stuff from me, remember?” Ekta had always wondered why anyone raised into magic would want to turn their back against all that and live a muggle life, but Susan had only said something about her dad being mostly muggle, whatever that meant, and refused to elaborate.

“You haven’t even heard of Beedle the Bard or anything?” Albus asked.

“Nothing means  _ nothing _ ,” Ekta said. She shared an exasperated glance with Susan. Albus was only one year younger than them, but sometimes he could be a bit dense.

“Right then,” Albus said, straightening his yellow and black striped tie with exaggerated formality. “I guess I’ll just have to introduce you.”

Ekta rolled her eyes but shifted so she was curled up more comfortably in her chair. “I guess I don’t have anything better to do. What’s the most well known one?”

“Well...” Albus hesitated. “I don’t know which one’s the most famous or anything, but my dad told me about Deathly Hallows the most often.”

“Hallows?” Susan asked. “What does that mean? Like All Hallow’s Eve?”

“I dunno. It’s just a thing, I guess,” Albus said, waving one arm wildly around to demonstrate how much he didn’t know. “It doesn’t really matter. The story’s about these three brothers. The Perevells or something. I think my dad’s a descendent?”

“Wait, they actually existed?” Ekta asked. In her experience, fairytales weren’t normally based off reality.

“Well, obviously they didn’t do everything that happens in this story, but yeah,” Albus said. “ _ But anyway _ , there were three brothers, and one day they came across a bridge over a dangerous river...”

Albus described their meeting with Death and its consequences, and Ekta allowed him to do so with only a little bit of interruption every now and then whenever he said something that made zero sense. It was only after Albus was finished that Ekta realized Susan hadn’t said anything the whole time. 

Glancing over to her side, Ekta saw that Susan was frowning.

“Death isn’t really like that, you know,” Susan said.

“Like what?” Ekta asked, raising an eyebrow. Susan had a habit of acting as if her opinions were the only correct ones, but starting an argument over fairytale figures was going a bit far, even for her.

“You know,” Susan said frustratedly. “Conniving and cruel. Trying to trick people into dying. He doesn’t  _ want _ people to die. It just happens. Also he wouldn’t talk like that.”

“It’s just a story!” Albus said. “It’s not like any of this is real!”

“I don’t know...” Ekta said. “Lysander Lovegood was telling me the other day about how the Deathly Hallows are real and that his granddad is trying to find them. I’d forgotten about that until now.”

“Well, he’s Aunt Luna’s kid,” Albus said. “So it’s not like you can trust him on that kind of thing.”

“He didn’t say anything about Death, and I’m not saying that part’s real,” Ekta argued. “But maybe there were some really powerful wizards a thousand years ago who created some special items that really do exist. That’s not unbelievable. You already said that the brothers were real people.”

“Even if  _ that _ part isn’t made up,” Albus butted in before she could add anything else to her argument, “Death is just a metaphor.”

“That’s not true!” Susan exclaimed, loud enough that the rest of the Hufflepuff common room fell silent.

The three of them paused, awkwardly not looking at each other until the other people turned back to their conversations.

“Well, it’s not,” Susan muttered, with all the petulance of a twelve year old.

“I suppose you’ll also tell me what the Easter Bunny’s really like too,” Albus sneered.

“It’s getting late, so I should head back to my own common room!” Ekta said, standing up from the chair to make her escape before things could worsen. She liked her friends, but they were both incredibly bad at backing down, and Ekta hated conflict. “See you tomorrow!”

She grabbed her books and left Susan and Albus glaring at each other. She had made it halfway back to the Slytherin rooms when a guilty thought popped into her brain. Was Susan so defensive over Death’s characterization because her parents had died right before she came to Hogwarts, a little over a year ago? That seemed less ridiculous than Susan being stubborn for no reason. And less out of character. Normally Susan was more logical in her stubbornness.

Fighting off the uncomfortable feeling that maybe she should apologize, even though she hadn’t actually  _ said  _ anything against Susan, Ekta headed back to her room.

* * *

“Did it really happen like in the stories? With the Deathly Hallows and everything?” Susan asked her grandfather at the first chance she got.

WHAT STORIES? Death asked, his skull tilted slightly. I WAS NOT AWARE THERE WERE STORIES.

Susan briefly summarized what Albus had told her.

NO, IT WASN’T LIKE THAT, Death said. Susan smiled to herself, vindicated. THOSE ITEMS WERE ALL THEIR IDEAS. I MERELY HELPED THEM OUT.

“You did?” Susan asked. Death was not normally helpful to living people.

THEY SUMMONED ME WITH THE RITUAL OF ASHKENTE, Death explained. IT WASN’T ENTIRELY VOLUNTARY.

“Ah,” Susan said. “Well, if you ever meet Albus, could you tell him I was right?”

IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WISH, Death said.

“It is,” Susan said firmly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided I’m not going to bother with trying to be in chronological order, so this takes place a year before the last one. Also this is mostly epilogue-compliant, but not completely.

**October, First Year**

“Ms. Sto Helit,” McGonagall began. “We need to talk about your attendance.”

Susan looked down, staring stubbornly at the deep brown lines of the Headmistress’ wooden desk, wishing that she was anywhere else but here. It wasn’t like she ever actually skipped class. All she did was fade out of her teachers’ attention until they no longer registered her existence.

No one could blame her from wanting to disappear from her classes and life. It had only been a month and a half since both her parents died and she learned that not only did the personification of Death exist, he was her grandfather, and that also she was apparently a witch who had to go to a wizarding school. Seven weeks wasn’t enough time for her to simply get over all that.

“I understand you’re going through a lot,” McGonagall said gently. “If you need someone to talk to, Madam Pomfrey is trained in psychology, and Professor Potter has gone through some similar experiences, and I know for a fact that both would be more than willing to offer support. However,” with this her tone turned sterner, “you cannot continue to miss class.”

Susan said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say to that. She didn’t want to be here, listening to the Headmistress, and she could feel herself start to fade. Within a moment, McGonagall would start to wonder what she had been talking about, and a few seconds after that, she would go back to doing whatever it was headmistresses did when they weren’t talking to troublesome students, completely oblivious to Susan’s presence. That was what everybody else did when Susan wanted them to stop noticing her.

“Do you understand me?” McGonagall asked, staring Susan dead in the eye with a certain sharpness that hadn’t been there before.

Susan was thrown, but she didn’t let herself show it. No one had ever noticed her when she didn’t want to be seen. Sometimes it took a bit for her to entirely disappear from someone’s mind, but in those instances, people only registered her presence with the franticness of trying to hold onto the memory of a dream that had already started to disappear.

Not sure what else to do, Susan nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, there was one more thing I wanted to speak to you about. Since your parents lived among muggles, your guardianship is being handled by their government.” McGonagall gave a long-suffering sigh. “Unfortunately, the wizarding world is very out of touch with muggle society, so Hogwarts does not yet have access to your current records. I need to know if you have a legal guardian, or someone who can watch over you while you are not at Hogwarts during the summer. I know the end of the year is a long way off, but if arrangements must be made, the process should be started sooner rather than later.”

“I’m staying with my grandfather,” Susan said when McGonagall came to a pause. She briefly wondered if Death would show up on her legal records, and imagined someone trying to reach her, only to find her official address was ‘small timeless pocket dimension known as Death’s Domain.’

“Ah, good,” McGonagall said, relaxing into her chair. “Are you finding your classes well?”

Susan was saved from having to reply by an urgent knocking on the door.

For half a moment, McGonagall didn’t move, glaring at the door. Then she stood up with a sigh. “What is it now?” she muttered.

The door opened before McGonagall could reach it, and Susan caught sight of bright red robes and a matching hat with the word ‘WIZZARD’ spelled out in sequins. “There was an accident in the library—” he began.

“I’ll be right there,” McGonagall said briskly. “Ms. Sto Helit, please wait here. This will only be a minute.” And then she strode off, the assistant librarian scurrying after her.

With nothing better to do, Susan took a closer look around the room. Growing up in the muggle world with very no-nonsense parents meant this room seemed completely unreal to her, with all the fantastical instruments and devices and the dozens of paintings of snoring people. The five weeks she had spent at Hogwarts had not washed away the conviction that the world should make sense, that it worked in certain ways explainable by science. All her life, Susan had been taught that magic wasn’t real, yet here she was.

The portrait next to the one above the Headmistress’s chair, the one that appeared to be the first in chronological order, was vaguely familiar, and it only took Susan a moment to place the memory.

“Albert!”

The figure in the painting twitched, but continued to pretend to snore. Around him, she could see other portraits crack their eyes open to peak at her.

“You are Albert Malich, aren’t you,” Susan said, louder this time.

The portrait gave up pretending to sleep, and grumpily opened his eyes. “I am. What’s it to you?”

“I didn’t realize you used to be the headmaster of this school!” Susan said, though now that she thought about it, Death  _ had _ mentioned that his manservant used to be a wizard.

“I don’t know how else you know about me,” Albert said bitterly. “It’s the only thing I’m known for. First headmaster, right after the Founders.”

“You don’t know me?” Susan asked. She wasn’t sure how paintings worked. They seemed to be alive, with their own personalities and memories, but now that she thought about it, it would be kind of weird for them to be psychically linked to their real life counterparts like she had originally assumed.

“Why would I?” he demanded. “Haven’t I been dead for hundreds of years?!”

“No.”

“Wait—really?” The grouchiness had vanished from his voice. “So then I must have actually succeeded in reverse-summoning Death and becoming immortal! How come I’ve never stopped by?”

“Well, you only sort of succeeded,” Susan said. “I don’t think you’re really alive either. You work for Death in his Domain. I’ve seen you there myself.”

Albert squinted at her. “And what’s a little girl like you hanging around there for?”

The thought occurred to Susan that wizards, like any other mortals, probably wouldn’t be comfortable with the idea that the granddaughter of Death was in their midst. Susan wasn’t exactly looking for adoring fans or even friends, but she didn’t think she would enjoy the awkward avoidance and fear that would follow her if this got out.

She crossed her arms loftily. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Albert snapped. “I don’t care.”

“Are you telling me that all of Malich’s blathering on about how the personification of Death exists really does have some weight behind it?” one of the stern-looking women across the room asked.

“Yes!” Albert said.

“Hmph. Well I still refuse to believe it,” another portrait said.

“Because there are  _ no other _ ‘myths’ that have turned out to be true recently or anything,” another muttered sarcastically.

“And so you think that means every fairy tale and folk monster—” the previous one stopped suddenly, and Susan followed his gaze to see the knob of the door twisting.

She abruptly sat down.

“My apologies for the wait,” McGonagall said as she made her way back to her desk. Susan looked back down at the flat wood in front of her and went back to wishing that her invisibility worked on McGonagall. “Where were we? Do you have any questions for me? Is there anything I can help you with?”

Susan shook her head. She just wanted to leave.

McGonagall looked at her for a long moment and sighed. “Alright. You can go now, but I hope you’ll come to me or someone else with your problems instead of just skipping your classes.”

Susan nodded, already standing up to go.

She made it out of the office and was starting to close the door when she heard an old man say, “That’s an interesting student you’ve got there, Minnie.” Susan closed the door before she could hear any kind of response. She hoped the portraits wouldn’t say too much, but even if they did, it wouldn’t matter too much. They had no real information, and a vague connection to Death was hardly going to make the professors or students think any worse of her than they already did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timestamps at the beginning line up with Susan's timeline, so Albus is a first year in this, despite the date

**October, Second Year**

A lot of people seemed to expect that being the son of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, came with many benefits. Albus was sure that there were, but to him, it seemed like the only things he got was too much attention and pressure. Being the second child meant that he didn’t receive as much of it as James did, but it was still far more than he wanted.

It didn’t help that being Harry Potter’s son also meant that his father was a teacher at the school he went to. Sometimes he wished his dad had become an auror, like his mom had said he started training to be before he realized that his interests lay elsewhere.

This was definitely one of those times.

“What if I don’t want to go?” Albus asked. His dad wasn’t sitting behind his desk, so at least Albus didn’t feel like some random student in trouble with his teacher, but it still was awkward to talk to his dad in his office.

“Then you don’t have to,” his dad said simply. “But Nick has been feeling down lately, and I know he would enjoy it if some more people came to this year’s death day party. I’d go myself, but as a teacher, I can’t leave the Halloween feast.”

“This is my first year at Hogwarts and you want me to miss out on the feast?”

“You can go after the feast,” his dad pointed out in that calm, reasonable tone that Albus hated. “Just having some living people show up and take some interest in him will really cheer Nick up.”

“Why can’t James go?” Albus muttered. “At least he’s also a Gryffindor.”

“Because he wants to spend time with his friends. Like I said, I’m not making you do anything—”

“Fine, I’ll go,” Albus snapped. “But only if I can bring some people along too.”

“Of course,” his dad said, looking a bit surprised.

“Right,” Albus said, walking out before his dad could ask him who his friends were and how his social life at Hogwarts was going. Now all he had to do was convince the people he had sort of been talking to over the last two months to join him so he wouldn’t have to go to a ghost party by himself.

...

Susan was easy to convince. “I’ve always wanted to ask ghosts some questions about their existence anyway,” she said brightly when Albus asked. “I haven’t had the chance to hold a conversation with them yet.”

“Ravenclaw,” Albus muttered under his breath, too happy to not have to go alone for it to be a true insult.

Ekta was a different story. “Are you sure you want to? My prefect says that bad things always happen on Halloween night. Pranks going wrong, the Chamber of Secrets opening, Peeves being Peeves, those sorts of things. You know.”

“Oh, so you’re just going to do what your prefect tells you to do?” Albus taunted.

She rolled her eyes. “Not necessarily, but why subject myself to potential danger and probable boredom when I can just enjoy the feast?”

“Because your friends will be there?” Albus tried.

“I have other friends, you know. Unlike you two.”

It was a bit cruel, but true. Both Albus and Susan were too anti-social to have other friends or even acquaintances, but Ekta seemed to know dozens of people that she felt comfortable holding conversations with on a semi-regular basis. Now that he thought about it like that, he wasn’t entirely sure why she was friends with the two of them when she had so many other options, but he wasn’t going to question a good thing.

“Fine then,” Albus said. “I guess it’s just going to be us two.” His only goal was to not be the only living person at the party, and it didn’t make an enormous difference if only one of his friends.

...

The Halloween feast was okay, but compared to the stories his parents had told him, it didn’t seem to compare. The food was great and the decorations were cool, but there was no spark to it that made it feel particularly special or exciting. Though that might have been because of the weight of Albus’s next engagement was pressing down on him.

Susan, Ekta, and him were sitting at the Ravenclaw table. Normally they ate with Hufflepuffs because they were generally the friendliest, but Ekta had said that if Susan and Albus were abandoning her in the middle of the feast, she at least wanted to be next to other people she knew, and apparently Albus was the only Hufflepuff she was friends with.

The actual plan had been to leave near the end of the feast, but Susan and Albus got bored of the feast and left a little earlier than that.

The halls of Hogwarts were empty with all the students and teachers busy at the feast. Albus could understand why pranksters and people who wished the school harm might do things on this night. Besides the mood-setting, there weren’t many people wandering around who might catch them in the act.

Fortunately, he and Susan made it safely to the Death Day Party without running into any tricksters. Unfortunately, his father had failed to sufficiently prepare him for what the party would be like. Albus hadn’t exactly been optimistic about the whole thing, but it was somehow even worse than he had thought.

The place was  _ cold _ , for one thing. It was also completely silent, but judging by the way that every ghost in the room was staring at them with wide eyes, Albus figured that had been a recent development. He wondered if living people were so rare at these kinds of events that they received this level of astonishment. He fought off the urge to say, “Wrong door,” and leave.

Albus spotted Nearly Headless Nick only a few feet away. He cleared his throat, too conscious of the silence it was breaking. “My, uh, my dad said he couldn’t make it, but he sent me to say Happy Death Day.”

Nearly Headless Nick smiled weakly, his eyes flickering between Albus and Susan. “Tell, er, tell your father thank you on my behalf. He has always been a good friend.”

With that, chatter began to fill the room again. With only ghosts there, it was quieter than it otherwise would have been, no sounds of feet shuffling or people bumping into things or anything. Many of them kept shooting Albus and Susan wary glances, so even though Albus didn’t quite feel the need to bolt anymore, he got the distinct impression that they were unwelcome.

Albus looked at Susan, then back at Nick. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do. His father had warned him about the lack of edible food, so Albus knew he couldn’t snack on hors d’oeuvres in the corner like he usually did at parties, but he had never been good at socializing.

“How many years has it been since your death, Sir Nick?” Susan asked politely, stepping forward a few steps to be within a more natural conversing distance. Albus followed her. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Nick drifted back slightly. “Oh, it’s been, er, 517 years now, I believe.” He looked visibly uncomfortable with this.

“Oh,” Susan said, faltering. Albus didn’t think he had once seen Susan look this uncomfortable in the two months they had known each other. “Well, congratulations.”

She walked off to the food table, the ghosts edging away from her when she got too close. Her face fell.

“What’s up with them?” Albus whispered as he ran up to her. “Are they normally this unfriendly?”

Susan shrugged gloomily. “I’ve never been able to hold an actual conversation with a ghost before. I thought it was just unluckiness, but now I think that they’re avoiding me.”

“Why would they do that?” Albus asked. Not all of the ghosts were particularly sociable, but he had met a few who went out of their way to be friendly. His own house’s ghost in particular came to mind.

“You can ask them yourself,” Susan said. “I think maybe I should leave now. I’m clearly disrupting the party here.” She stared at the table full of rotting food. “Not exactly the educational experience I’d hoped for.”

“If you’re going, I am too,” Albus said, even though part of him was disappointed to have gone through everything only to show up here for two minutes. He prefered that to being the only living person in attendance though.

“Okay,” Susan said as she made for the door.

“Thanks for the invitation, Sir Nick!” Albus said because he knew his father would be disappointed if he didn’t show  _ some _ manners, then left the room with a small sigh of relief.

...

“How was your Halloween?” his dad asked him the next day after his Defense class.

Albus knew what his dad was really trying to ask him. “I went to Nick’s party with a friend, but everyone was acting really weird around her, so we left early. He did tell you thanks though for sending me.”

His dad was frowning. “What do you mean they were acting weird around her?”

“They all got really quiet when we entered, and they seemed uncomfortable,” Albus said. “When she walked across the room, they went all whoosh.” He stuck his hands out and separated them. 

“I’ve never heard of ghosts acting like that,” his dad said. “Did she do anything that might have caused it?”

“I don’t think so,” Albus said. Normally his parents questioning him too hard about his personal life and friends made him want to leave the room, but he was just as curious as his dad was, and as a professor who should be knowledgeable about this kind of thing, Albus wanted to know if he had any answers. “She said they’ve always acted like that.”

“Who is she?”

Albus hesitated. It felt wrong to give away this secret somehow, but he figured his dad saw him hanging around her and would figure it out sooner or later. “Susan. Sto Helit.”

“Huh.” His dad made a weird expression that Albus couldn’t tell the meaning of.

“Why did you make that face?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Just, I’m not surprised that of all the students, it was her. The ghosts didn’t seem angry or anything, did they?”

Albus shook his head. “More scared than anything.”

“As far as I know, there’s no way for a witch or wizard to hurt a ghost,” his dad said. “And if they don’t seem to be inclined to cause trouble for her, I’m not sure if it’s any of our business.”

“Yeah,” Albus muttered. It wasn’t like he was going to invade anybody’s privacy, but he was still curious. Still, Susan didn’t seem to know either, and his father had solved a bunch of mysteries when he was in school. Maybe this one was Albus’s. “Well, I gotta run to my Transfiguration class.”

“Right, of course,” his father said. “Sorry for holding you up. And—thanks.”

Albus nodded then bolted, hoping to make it to his class in time.


End file.
